


Matter of Inches

by ziparumpazoo



Category: Longmire (TV), Walt Longmire Mysteries - Craig Johnson
Genre: AU, F/M, Fix-It, Reindeer, Snowed In, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziparumpazoo/pseuds/ziparumpazoo
Summary: The difference between life and death was only a matter of inchesAn AU taking places afterA Serpent's Tooth.





	Matter of Inches

**Author's Note:**

> eh, I don't where this sap came from, but I realized it's complete, so might as well post.

It wasn’t difficult to locate the truck. It had slid into the barrow ditch back end first, so it sat with its headlights pointing above the horizon, slicing through the heavy snow like a pair of stalled-out ground-to-air search lights. She’d turned the light-bar on, the blue and red reflected off the blowing flakes and made the immediate vicinity around the truck look like a New Year’s confetti celebration had come early.

I turned on my own hazard lights and rolled to a stop along the shoulder, noting uncomfortably the way the headlights dimmed significantly when I released the accelerator. I left the engine running and told Dog to keep an eye on things. I pulled my collar up and and stepped out of the truck. The wind caught my hat and would have taken it off to Nebraska if I had been any slower to clamp it down, bending forward into the wind as I made my way down to the truck.

The snow in the barrow ditch reached my knees in some spots and I was still wearing my rough-outs, so I followed the ruts her tires had carved into the drifts until I could use the truck body to keep myself upright. She’d made an attempt to shovel out from around the tires and the exhaust pipe, but the truck was in too deep. I'd have to break out the tow chains to pull her out. 

I rounded the hood and knocked on the driver’s side window. “Roadside Assistance. How can we help?”

The window rolled down with an arthritic whine, the motor straining against the accumulated ice. “Do you have any idea how fucking embarrassing it is to call in a 10-46 on yourself?”

“I think even the Philly PD’s tactical driving school is no match for a good Wyoming blizzard. Are you okay?”

Vic sighed. “Only my pride is injured.” 

She hit the power locks and I made my way over to the passenger side and slid in. “What happened?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” It was warm in her truck with the heater fan running full to keep the windows clear. She pulled her fur bomber hat off and tossed it on the seat between us. She ran a hand through her hair, then adjusted the vent louvers so the air was directed at the window. She was still annoyed at her predicament. I waited. 

“I hit the brakes for a herd of reindeer and managed a full three-sixty before the snowdrifts redirected my ass-end to the ditch, okay? Don't laugh.”

I didn't. But I was surprised. “Reindeer aren't native to Wyoming. Are you sure it wasn't elk or mule deer?”

“The red noses gave it away.”

I turned to stare at her, wondering if she’d hit her head when the truck had skidded. Then she laughed, and in the pale light from the dash, I could see that half smile she reserved for when she was teasing. “How the fuck should I know what they were in this weather? They were big and there were at least half a dozen of them across the road. I'm lucky I didn't hit any of them. I wasn't going to chase them down for an ID.”

I looked up through the windshield and could barely see the lights from the Bullet because the wind had picked up and was blowing as much snow across the ground as was falling from the sky. It reminded me of another Christmas Eve many years ago and I was suddenly glad there was no vintage aircraft involved. “Well, let’s get this thing back onto the road and I'll follow you home.”

I left Vic to bundle up again as I made my way back up and out of the barrow ditch. I almost walked right past my truck and would have missed it entirely if the receiver hitch hadn't clipped me in the shin. Feeling my way back along the body, I realized the reason I couldn't see the light bar anymore was because it wasn't running. Neither was the engine. I opened the door and shoved Dog over so I could turn the key. 

Nothing. Not even the click of the starter trying to engage. 

“Some rescue.” The roaring of the wind had covered her approach. “Now what?”

I turned to look at her. She was bundled up again, this time with a scarf added to the ensemble and pulled up to her nose so only her eyes were visible under the folded brim of her hat. “Unless you have thirty-foot long jumper cables, I guess we call for a tow.”

“On Christmas Eve? Yeah, good luck with that. Why do you think I called you?”

“Henry?”

“With what? Lola’s tucked in storage for the winter and Rezdawg hates you at the best of times.”

I readjust my hat and tried the key again. Still nothing. Even the dome light was dark. “It's a truck. It doesn't have feelings.”

She turned back toward her own truck and I could barely hear her as the wind stole her words. “Uh huh. Remember that next time it breaks down after you’ve insulted it.”

Dog shoved past me and took off after Vic. “Where are you going?”

Her words were almost lost. “Where it's warm!”

Dog was fogging up the window when I retraced my steps. Vic folded the center console down and Dog hopped into the back. He hung his head over the back of the seat so his face was directed at one of the vents. Vic scratched under his chin and he let out a wet whuf of contentment, the huge fan of a tail thumping against the seat back. She slouched into her seat and I watched her prop her head on her fist and lean against the door frame. 

“Everything okay?”

“Besides the departmental roadside convention we have going on here?” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I hate winter. Why didn't I go somewhere warm when I had the chance?”

She been off work most of the fall recovering from a knife injury she’d got while defending me. The hospital stay had been long and the physiotherapy afterwards to restore full mobility to the hip had been gruelling. She still walked with a bit of a limp when she was tired, which was more often than not lately, but she’d gotten off lucky; an inch or two more toward the midline and it would have been a far more tragic outcome. The only upside to the whole situation was that the DCI investigation had been quick in absolving Vic from any wrongdoing; even McGroder had intimated that general consensus around the FBI was that killing Bidarte was seen as a favor to a lot of people. A man like that was too dangerous alive, even incarcerated. 

“It's warmer in Philadelphia.” She rolled her head in my direction and shot me the look that said I wasn't as funny as I thought. “Are you still coming next week?” Cady was due with my first and, the way she’d been talking when she’d called to confirm the flights, only grandchild, and I was expected to be there for the big event. 

“What, and miss out on a preview of coming attractions?” She shook her head. “I'll be there. Never hear the end of it if I'm not.”

My next question was preempted by a knock on the window. Dog barked and I reached into the back seat to shush him while Vic rolled down the window. 

“You folks look like you could use a hand.” He was a mountain of a man with beard so thick and white that he seemed to be part of the storm. He was wearing a bomber hat of his own with the ear flaps jammed down against the wind and a pair of insulated high-visibility orange coveralls that looked almost red in the flashing lights from Vic’s unit. He gestured up toward the road and I noticed a new set of flashing lights, amber this time, parked in front of the Bullet. “Saw the breakdown and the tracks. Bad luck there’s no one on the road tonight. You’da been here ‘till morning at least when the plows get on the road.”

Dog didn't argue when we told him to stay again. He claimed my seat and shoved his nose into the vent. Vic followed as I broke trail back up to the road again. The blowing snow had already filled in our earlier tracks. 

By the time we caught up, he was busy unspooling steel cables from the largest tow truck I'd ever seen. Three axles in the back, a boom arm that probably could have lifted Vic’s truck and deposited it directly on the road, and the name ‘Nick’s Heavy Rescue’ emblazoned on the door. He caught me staring at the string of Christmas lights festooning the boom. “A little overkill for a three-quarter ton maybe, but it'll get you both on yer way.” He handed me the business end of the cable. “Run it out until you reach the truck with a bit of slack.”

“If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing out on the road tonight?”

Nick pointed at the tow truck. “It's the busiest night of the year for me. Between the weather and people coming and going...church services and families visiting and travelling at the last minute…Make sure everyone gets where they’re supposed to be tonight.” He shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Best gift a person can give is take away a bit of worry this time of year. Put a mind at ease if you can.”

I couldn't argue his logic: it was nice to be reminded there were still a few Good Samaritans out there. I post-holed my way back to Vic’s unit and attached the cable to the bar at the bottom of the grill guard, then climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the transmission into neutral. All I had to do was keep the tires pointed forward while the heavy wrecker dragged the truck through the snow drifts like a toboggan on a ski slope tow-rope.

The hood of the Bullet was already up when I climbed out of the truck and unfastened the tow cable. I looked up to let Nick know he could start feeding the line back into the winch and noticed him with his head tilted in close to Vic’s while they spoke. I couldn't hear the exchange over the wind and the snow was caking along the top of my jacket collar and down my neck. When I adjust my hat to block the worst of it, Nick had already stepped away and was hooking a set of heavy gauge jumper cables to the Bullet’s battery. Vic watched him, her arms wrapped around her body against the cold and an odd look on her face for a moment before she climbed into the driver’s seat and prepared to turn the key on his signal. 

The big V-10 roared to life. I muttered in its general direction. “Traitor.” I joined Nick at the open driver’s side window where Vic was keeping the engine revving. 

“Looks like the alternator got iced up. Let it warm up enough to melt and it should be fine.”

I held out a hand which he took with a firm shake. “Make the bill out to the Sheriff’s Department and I'll make sure the check gets cut as soon as Ruby’s back in the office.”

He waved a hand. “Consider it a public service for the public servants.” He laughed at his own joke, his prodigious belly vibrating in symphony. 

“Appreciate that.” I couldn't help but smile. I glance up at Vic and noticed she was uncharacteristically quiet. I wondered again what he’d said to her. 

He climbed into the cab of the heavy wrecker and leaned an elbow out the open window, oblivious to the roaring wind and blowing snow that was accumulating on his windshield. “Listen, I know it's a long shot in this weather, but you haven't seen a herd of caribou on the loose? I got a farm a little ways north of here. Gate blew open in the wind and the herd musta flew out a there ‘cause I can't find a trace of ‘em. No tracks. Nothing.”

“Aren't we a little far south for caribou.”

He laughed again. “Popular at those festival light displays this time of years. You know, get yer picture with Santa and pet the reindeer?”

“You have a herd of reindeer?” I shook my head because it should have been obvious. I probably owed Vic an apology. I nodded back to where she was waiting in the Bullet. “My deputy says that’s what forced her off the road. You might want to locate them before she does.”

I watched Nick head off in the direction Vic had last seen the herd moving, his spotlight aimed at the shoulder in the off-chance the wind hadn't scoured all the tracks away completely. Climbing into Vic’s truck, I waited until she and Dog pulled out, then followed them to my cabin since it was closer. We parked the trucks nose-to-nose in case the Bullet decided it wasn't finished being ornery in the morning and needed a jumpstart. With this weather, I couldn't blame it. 

By the time I'd brought in a couple of armloads of wood and stoked the fire in the wood stove, Vic had checked the answering machine at the office and changed into her fleece pajamas and a pair of my wool socks that doubled as slippers for her. I found her leaning against the window frame watching the snow continue to swirl in the porch lights. Her arms were wrapped around herself again and her gaze was far off, as if she was looking for the tail edge of the storm. 

“Am I to assume that the change in wardrobe means all’s quiet on the western front?” I shed my own jacket and hung my hat on the peg by the door. Dog lifted his head to track my progress, but when I bypassed the refrigerator, he lost interest and resumed his spot in front of the fire. 

Vic didn't look at me. “The citizenry are all tucked in their beds with visions of sugar plums, or some shit like that. I can't remember the whole thing.”

Because I knew it would annoy her, I supplied the rest of the quote. “The children were tucked all safe in their beds while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap-” she cut me off with an elbow to the gut. “I used to read that one to Cady when she was little.”

“Speaking of, she called and left a message.”

I reached for the phone, but Vic shook her head. “She said they’re going to mass and then to visit Nona Moretti, so it’ll be late and she’ll call in the morning when Henry’s here.”

I couldn't help the twinge of disappointment at missing Cady’s call; holidays had always been difficult with her halfway across the country, and in the past I'd avoided them altogether by giving my staff the holidays and taking the shifts myself, spending the night in one of the holding cells in case there was a call. 

This year was different; I was trying out a new tradition. I wrapped my arms around Vic and felt her lean into my chest, but she didn't turn away from the window. We stood there for a while and I thought about how good she felt and how how close a call it had been back in the fall, how I'd almost lost her. How I’d almost lost them both. 

I remembered her back on the side of the road and curiosity got the better of me. “So you and Kris Kringle were having quite the conversation back there.”

She tilted her head up to look at me. “Uncanny, wasn't he?” She turned back to the window again. Outside the wind howled across the plains, but the sky was starting to clear, the stars crisp points in a velvet sky. It would be cold tomorrow morning. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, uncertain. “One of the things he said was that I was looking too hard for a sign and I just needed to be patient.”

“You? Impatient?” It sounded pretty cryptic to me, but I was starting to get used to strangers bearing even stranger messages in the last couple of years. I thought of yet another blizzard and my time on the mountain with a giant, but let it pass for tonight. I rested my chin on the top of her head. “Sixteen weeks?” 

“Almost seventeen.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath and I knew I should be afraid of what was coming. “Walt, I can't feel it move. All the books say I should be able to feel it by now.”

I held her tighter. “That’s what’s been bothering you.” She didn't say anything but I could feel the tension strung through her like a piano wire. “You think something's wrong?”

“I don't know, but with everything that happened, the surgery, all the antibiotics and everything else before…and it wasn't like this was something we planned or anything.” Her shoulders lifted and fell again, and I was unsettled by her unusual display of vulnerability. I tried to think of something reassuring, but I also knew she didn't suffer platitudes. I could list all the changes in her that I'd noticed, especially over the last couple of weeks how she seemed to flourish and glow, but I suspected they'd be met with skepticism at the moment. 

Instead I opted for honesty. “If there's one thing I've learned about Doc Bloomfield over the years it’s that he doesn't believe in giving patients false hope.” I let my hand slide down her body and rest on the gentle swell at her middle. I'd only have to move a fingertip to feel the knot of fresh scar tissue at her hip, reminding me again that the difference between life and death was only a matter of inches. “We could call him up in the morning.”

I felt her freeze and I started to suggest we could call him sooner, but she held up a finger to forestall me and stood there as if she was listening to something I hadn't heard. I looked over at Dog, but whatever it was, he hadn't heard it either because he was still snoring softly over by the fire. 

“Maybe we could hold off on that…” Her words trailed off and I waited. The tension in her shoulders was of a different sort now, anticipation replacing the earlier trepidation. “Can you feel that?” She nudged my palm over to the left a bit. 

She wasn't the only one who’d been doing some reading, and I knew from past experience with Martha and Cady that it was too early to feel anything myself, but I kissed the top of her head and waited with her anyhow. I thought again about my own roadside conversation with our mysterious stranger this evening and his comment about one of the greatest gifts he could give was peace of mind. “You said ‘one of the things’. What was the other thing he told you?”

When she finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “He said he had it on good authority that things were going to turn out okay.” Her hand came to rest across mine and she leaned into me, feeling our child for the first time.


End file.
